His Source of Comfort
by jeremybekah
Summary: Tom Branson often likes to take journeys with his young daughter. Off to London, and to Aunty Edith they go.


**_I'm still desperately heartbroken over what happened in the episode, but I just needed to write something, to try and find some sort of peace with what happened. Even if writing this helped a little bit, it still feels so terribly wrong. I just can't quite reconcile it with how Sybil and Tom's story was meant to end. I might try writing an AU, to be honest. But I can't quite bring myself to do so just yet. Hope this story doesn't make anyone feel worse!_**

* * *

Little girls were often known to imagine themselves as princesses, explorers – in other words, they dreamt of a life of worth and excitement, little knowing what it really was that life would bring them. No one could resent them this blessed view of life, this view that what you dreamt of would bring you happiness, that getting what you wanted would grant you a happily ever after.

Not even Sybil Branson, or as she was better know, Sibby. The devoted affection she saw in her Papa's eyes would more often than not weigh out the sorrow. She preferred to think of him as a happy soul, in any case, and pressed for more of his stories, the ones she loved so much. He would talk often of the woman she knew had been her mother – _is_ your mother, her father would correct her, seeming all too far away for Sibby's liking. My darling, he would whisper almost absentmindedly and Sibby could never quite grasp who exactly he was speaking of. She would then make a play for his attention with a toothy smile and outstretched chubby fingers. He told lovely stories, her father, and Sibby could tell he really _meant_ them, which was, in her opinion, the most important part of a tale.

In any case, she was a spirited little girl, who often played make believe. Her father would never tell her to not make terrible sacrifices for what she wished for, even if some part of him longed to clutch her close and never allow her to take risks. Nevertheless, it would always be his duty to keep her safe, as best as he could. Safe and happy, Tom thought, with a wry smile. It was not often that he went to the seaside, but Sibby had begged, and whilst they were close enough to make it a day trip, he had conceded. It was her first time seeing such a sight, and the awe in her sweet face had been enough to make it all the worthwhile. Tom now watched Sibby with careful eyes. At last, he could make claims to be an experienced father. The first year had been the hardest – his mother in law told him it always was.

But, dear _God_, had the memory of her convulsing in pain haunted him. Her deathly pale demeanor. The light in her eyes dulling for good. Everything had been for Sybil, for so long; she had been all that mattered. And without her, Tom had not known how to continue on. It was not as if that had changed, not much. Sibby had made things easier, he supposed. Even if, perhaps, every day he had searched her face, not knowing which would be worse, seeing too much of Sybil in her little eyes, or not seeing a trace of Sybil at all.

Tom knew that the others looked for it, perhaps Cora in particular. He'd been frightened that they would all find it rather hard to love his child, especially without Sybil there to smooth over corners, but the girls, in particular, had been every bit as warm and loving as Tom ought to have known they would be. It would be perhaps a little hasty to say that they felt like family - but he was glad that Sibby, at least, could call them that. He knew that he alone was not enough.

Sometimes, he'd simply allow himself to pretend that Sybil was still with him, that they'd be coming home to one another at the end of the day. On other days, perhaps he longed, just a little, for the day where he would come home to her. But Tom also knew Sybil would disapprove of such a thought. And then there was Sibby to think of. The most darling little girl he could have hoped for. He suspected that the Crawleys had all wondered – but of course, Robert had been the only one to speak out of it – if he would flee back to Ireland, and rejoin the rebellion, without Sybil to hold him back. If their old chauffeur would simply deem it easier to cut ties, and forget. The idea had quite honestly never occurred to him. One look at Sibby and he had loved her more than he'd believed possible. That hadn't changed. It was all for her now. Everything that Tom had. Sibby's breathless giggles interrupted his thoughts and he jarred, a glare from the sun surprising him.

Tom smiled easily at his daughter, and she stretched out her hand to him, "Papa, I want to swim. Again." She seemed to find this a funny thought, and he adored the look of happiness on her small, dear face. Sibby had many of his features, he'd noted over the years. He checked his watch, having forgotten to keep a diligent track of it whilst he'd watched her enjoy herself.

"I'm afraid it's time we go to meet Aunty Edith." Tom said, watching Sibby's face fall at the thought of leaving. But he knew she wouldn't complain; the girl really was far too much like her mother at times. She loved her family. And that was all Tom could want for her. It was what he knew Sybil would want. Still, to make the prospect brighter, he whispered conspiratorially. "You know that we need to keep an eye on that Evelyn Napier. Aunty Edith can be quite the flirt when he's around."

This made her squeal with delight, and Sibby began to chatter excitedly about the romance of it all, her aunt, a successful writer, and the man who seemed quite devoted to her. Not that Edith liked to admit she noticed, oh no. Tom and Sibby really were closest to Edith, of all the family. It wasn't that she reminded him of Sybil, not exactly. Perhaps it was more than she reminded him of himself. The underdog. The outsider. The unloved.

Not, of course, if Evelyn Napier had anything to say about that. And Tom approved. The man was very kind, and noble, despite his social standing – not that Tom would judge anyone based on their title alone, certainly not anymore.

Edith had sent them a car. Tom still did not feel comfortable being driven around by someone. It was funny, what could become a bittersweet memory. And to think Tom had thought himself such a sensibly minded man. Yet, here he was, closing his eyes and desperately wishing he could forget Sybil's laugh, back when his hands would have been placed on the wheel. If he could love her all over again, right from the start, would he have chosen differently? Perhaps that was a question they all asked themselves eventually. Sibby's head seemed to fall onto his shoulder at that point, her eyes closing slightly. It had been a long day for her, and so Tom kissed her forehead gently. "Rest on me, darling," he said, putting his arm around her shoulder. "I don't have a lullaby on me, but I can make one up, if you can stand the Branson lungs at work."

"You have a nice voice," Sibby said with a dreamy smile. He almost laughed. Almost. It occurred to him, quite often, that this small life was everything to him. That she was all he had. All he needed, too, really. God knew the pain would never truly fade, but Sibby? She was the light in his life now. It was desperately, deeply frightening to look at her and know that she was everything to him, now that Tom knew exactly how it felt to lose just that. Exactly how easy it was.

"_You_ are very kind," he said in return, knowing that she would soon be sound asleep, perhaps with the light breathing he was so accustomed to hearing night after night now.

"Mammy was kind." His daughter's voice was very frail. "Wasn't she?" Her head propped up against him, as if she was looking for reassurance. As if – and his heart cried out for her, the instinctual need to wrap Sibby in his arms taking over – she was just as desperate as he was for her mother. Of course Tom knew she wondered about her. Of course he knew that all she had were the few stories Tom could bring himself to tell. And of course it had sunk in that this was a little girl without a mother.

But Tom had struggled to find any solution for that. And it was simply because there was none.

"She was more than kind," he said at last. "She went to whatever length necessary for strangers, darling. All that and more. God, she was a beautiful soul, your mother. Far above me." Wasn't that how it went, of course? The good died young, and that was the way things were. "But lucky she hedged her bets with me, eh?" Tom choked, with a mournful smile. He'd asked that of her. _Bet on me_, he'd said. And this was their result. He could never want to take it back. Sibby's slightly wet eyes on his reassured him of that. "We got you. I have you."

He doubted she would fall asleep now, but even so, Tom rocked his daughter from side to side whilst the chauffeur in the front respectfully looked away. The irony of that – a chauffeur who knew "his place" – _was_ rather laughable.

* * *

"I don't believe that some hearts _can_ love again," Edith remarked, as she watched her brother in law mingle, a scowl on his face. She almost stifled a laugh as the woman he was speaking to seemed to turn around angrily and storm off. Tom still was not fond of playing nice, no matter how much her father liked to press him into it.

Her companion, the rather dignified Evelyn Napier gave her a small smile. "He carries on well." The man then caught sight of what Edith was laughing about. "Ah," he tried to frown, but found it more than a little difficult. "Most days, at the very least. But no one could blame him for chasing away that… particular woman."

Edith raised an eyebrow, "Oh? You know her? She is quite pretty. Tom is blind to that nowadays, I know, but any other man..."she trailed off, not embarrassed to be so forward, but rather teasing.

"We all have our preferences." Evelyn replied mildly. "As Tom can attest to, no doubt."

She frowned all of a sudden, and this, Evelyn had to note, was his kind of pretty. "I feel as though we're speaking ill of Tom. He won't look at other women. He simply doesn't want to. Is it selfish of me to be glad that Sybil's memory is so loved?" She laughed suddenly, perhaps to disguise the moisture in her eyes. Sybil loved . "And her daughter. It's rather funny to think of, that we once disapproved of Tom."

"You realise you're creating scandal, the pair of you?" She jumped, as Tom came up behind them, eyes twinkling. They could both tell he'd heard what they were speaking of, and rather than admonish them, decided to turn the tables around. "Still unmarried. Really, Evelyn, no one can decide if you've been a-courting or not."

Evelyn smirked, as Edith blushed a little, sending her brother-in-law a withering glare. Tom let out a small laugh, clapping Evelyn on the shoulder and leaving them back to their privacy.

He looked back over his shoulder, to see them take up that air of undeniable couple-ness once more. This, he knew, was what Sybil wanted for her sisters. Happiness, in whichever form it mustered.

"_Oh, Edith. I'm worried for her." They'd retired to their bedroom early, as had everyone. It was odd, to come back from a wedding so sombre. But, Tom supposed, when the bride was jilted, it was no longer called a wedding. Sybil was very much affected which in truth was what Tom cared about most. She'd spent the last few minutes crying for her sister, crying into Tom's chest. He didn't know what to say to comfort her. He'd been as shocked as any of them. _

"_I think," Tom began carefully, "That there isn't much any of us can do for Edith. She will simply have to recover from the hurt on her own terms. But you're her sister. You _can_ help make her happy."_

_Sybil smiled, resting her head gently on his chest. "It's horribly selfish of me but all I could think of was how desperately glad I am to have you with me. To know that you'll never leave me, Tom." _

_She entwined their hands together and Tom was soothed by her touch, as always. It awed him, to think that he might grow so used to them in bed together that it would seem commonplace. He saw all the years in their future, growing old together, having children – their first was on the way, but every child needed siblings – and then grandchildren. They would carve the life he had always dreamed of, almost since their very first meeting. And God, but he couldn't wait to experience all of it. Sybil by his side, Sybil was his… but more so, he was hers. _

_And he would wilfully give himself to her over and over. A thousand lifetimes of working and waiting would not be enough for him to deserve Sybil, never mind the few years he'd spent. "Never," he swore, and she giggled, the shadow of worry in her eyes passing, for now. They had until morning to revere their own happiness._

"_You really are such a hopeless romantic," Sybil sighed with a wistful smile. "I do love you for it, Tom. For all of it."_

"_And I, you, my darling." He returned, easily. She closed her eyes, still smiling softly, and he kissed her forehead. _

He shook his head, hating himself for dredging up old memories again. But when you had begun your life with someone, shared every moment with a kiss or a look of infinite understand, it was difficult – impossible – to keep on without them.

Tom wondered if she was still waiting for him.

* * *

"_Please don't leave me," he begged her. Her body remained prone and silent. So unlike her. _

_Tom could not cease the rising panic, the suffocating coldness that descended upon him. He'd forgotten the joy he'd felt when Sybil had been wrapped in his arms, holding their newborn daughter. He could not remember how happy he'd been, now, looking at her like this._

_Pleading her to come back to him, to breathe again. _

"_Please, love," He kissed her hand, desperate kisses, frantic breaths. If he could manage to breathe throughout his fear, surely Sybil could just as easily. If she just took one breathe. All her spirit, all her fight. _

_He couldn't bear to be without Sybil._

Tom was stifled, in the crowded room filled with the people he'd once despised. Some he still did. Usually he avoided such affairs, except for when they came to visit Edith, where there was not much option. Of course, these people weren't nobility as much as journalists, newspapermen and women. He'd even seen a few actors, not that he'd let Lady Grantham know about that. It was strange to think of the world moving ahead in such ways. Nothing could be changed so quickly, naturally, but surely, sometimes, in his darkest moments, Tom had wondered what the point was when Sybil was no longer here. How the world could move now that she was gone.

Things he'd cared about no longer mattered. Excusing himself as politely as he could manage under the circumstances, he hurried upstairs.

Perhaps it was wrong to depend on his young daughter to be his one source of comfort, but Tom knew that the sight of her was all that could keep him from giving up. And her eyes did light up when he entered the room she played in.

"Oh, Sibby," he sighed, taking a seat beside his girl.

"You're missing the party," she exclaimed, looking very offended at the thought, but putting down her doll and curling up beside him regardless.

"They won't miss me," Tom half-smiled, "They're too busy celebrating the future days coming."

_But all I could think about was how much more I want from life._

_Does that mean you've made up your mind?_

Sibby scrunched up her nose. "Where will we be?"

"When?"

"In the future days." Sibby looked worried, for him, he realized. Again he'd been letting his young daughter see how upset he was.

"Wherever we decide." Tom tried to comfort her, for once, to show her all the love that he had for her. "Don't you worry, my darling. There's still a place for your old Da."

She nodded. "Mammy wants us to be happy." It was a childlike statement, filled with nothing more than what she dreamt of when she closed her eyes at night, dreaming of her mother. The one thing every little girl wanted. "She'll look out for us."

"Aye," he said, choking up again a little, but smiling serenely. "She'll always do that. And so will I."


End file.
